


folklore

by sinebenignitate



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, thank u Taylor Swift for getting me out of lack of writing for 3 years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinebenignitate/pseuds/sinebenignitate
Summary: based on taylor swift’s album ‘folklore’, it follows spencer reid and y/n y/l/n as they navigate the memories of their relationship after it falls apart. questioning what went wrong, the good and the bad - they need more nights alone to realise why they need each other.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 30
Kudos: 48





	1. the 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! so this is my very first fic in a /very/ long time - i'm really nervous about it but let's see how this goes. i hope spence is in character and everything else is okay!! 
> 
> please enjoy and stream folklore when reading !!

“and if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed.  
and if you never bleed, you’re never going to grow.” 

The apartment felt completely empty. It has been now for weeks. Despite the fact that they used to come and go in the mornings, the sound of the shower running and the coffee machine brewing did nothing to fill the void of his voice floating through the apartment. 

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to turn on the radio or television to drown out the silence that has been following her for months now. 

3 months, 2 weeks and 3 days to be exact. 

The cool, autumnal breeze swept through her hair as she walked to the subway. The leaves on the trees turn to fiery shades of red, orange and gold, brightening up the grey sky. The pavement shines with the remains of last night's rainfall, the hustle and bustle of early morning carrying her to the station. This time of year has always been her favourite, the transformation of each season amazes her but there is not feeling quite like crunching leaves beneath your feet, or watching them slowly fall from their trees in the breeze. 

He loves this time of year too. 

She’s been trying to convince herself that she’s alright without him, that she’s turning over a new leaf, but each day it gets harder and harder to fight the urge to call him. Then she reminds herself of all the times he failed to show that he truly wanted her, wanted her to listen and to hold his hand; all the times he failed to take down his walls, let himself open the floodgates and to grow with her. He failed to change with the seasons. Yet, she wants nothing more to hear the soft timbre of his voice, the tone he only ever used with her. Once again, she has to remind herself that that’s gone too.

Her stop was relatively empty for this time of the morning. Just a few early-risers like herself yawning into their to-go coffee cups, flicking through this morning's newspaper. The platform always echoed at this time of day, no sound other than soft conversations and the occasional announcement from the speaker. 

She didn’t like mornings until she met him. Now she rises early, usually getting into work a while before everyone else. She tries to shake those thoughts from her head but lifting her head from the ground she looks to the other platform.

She looks right at him. 

She knows it’s not him, he lives in the opposite direction, but her mind is telling her that the messy mop of brown hair, the suit jacket and cardigan combo, is really him on the other platform. 

The rumbling vibrations of the approaching train snapped her out of her reverie. Shaking her head, she got onto the train knowing that her day was going to be filled with paperwork and fighting how much she yearned to give him a smile. 

“roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool.  
and if my wishes had come true,  
it would have been you.”

It was very rarely that the two of them had time off from work but when they did, they spent it together. Walking around DC, going to the Smithsonian or visiting old bookshops across town. It was dusk by the time they got to the memorial. The sky swirled with pinks, reds and puffy white clouds. It reminded her of an old saying her Dad would tell her on the drive home from her Grandmother’s House. 

‘Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.’ It had no significant meaning, he only said it to make her laugh and for some reason it always did. 

They had been together for a few months by then, but it felt like forever to them. 

The sun hit the pool opposite the memorial, the pink sky etched into the water as the sun made its daily descent. His cardigan was hooked over her shoulders and her hand wrapped up in his.

“Spencer?” 

“Yes, my love.”

She smiled at the pet name. He never used them very often. 

“Can we make a wish?”

“Always.” He began fishing in his pockets for loose change. Smiling, he handed her a quarter and kept one for himself.

“You know, throwing coins into fountains stems from the practice of presenting gifts to Gods to either appease the Gods, or as payment for a request or prayer. This can be seen as the earliest version of making a wish. European folklore, specifically Germanic and Celtic traditions, used the term wishing wells as offerings to their gods for water.” 

She hummed in response, his lyrical voice calming her. She loved that he was an endless fountain of knowledge, she only wished she could give him something in return for all the little facts he gave her. 

Closing her eyes, she tossed the quarter into the pool, wishing for the man beside her to remain there. Always. Watching her coin become smaller and smaller and sunk into the depths, she watched as he did the same. The ripples of his quarter disrupted the glass-like pool as it fell opposite to her coin. 

Her laughter broke through the silence.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, I’m just… really happy.”

He grinned, “Me too. Though, I must ask, what did you wish for?”

Smugly, she replied, “Now, if I tell you it won’t come true.” The twinkle in her eye told him all he needed to know.

The two walked on, arms intertwined as they walked to the music their laughs made mixed together. 

She’d never admit to anyone but she wished he was the one.

Thinking back on that date, she now knows that wasn’t true. 

“we were something, don’t you think so?  
rose flowing with your chosen family,  
and it would have been sweet.”

That night at Rossi’s was the last time she remembers being happy with him. 

That was 4 months ago.

Pulling on that red dress that Spencer loved, she watched as JJ, Emily and Penelope got themselves ready. With Rossi’s dinner falling on the same night as their scheduled girl’s night, they had to compromise.

“Pen! You look beautiful!” Her friend truly was glowing, her dress a bright orange and her hair curled to perfection.

“Thank you, goddess divine, I must say red is truly your colour.”

“You’re too kind, Pen!” 

She felt truly happy. Surrounded by her friends, they were more sisters than they would ever be work colleagues. They were each other’s biggest supporters, always there to lift each other up and help each other when things weren’t the best. Together they were one big chosen family. They were her safety blanket when things felt out of control. 

Tonight is going to be good, she kept telling herself. She hadn’t seen Spence in a while, outside of work. They’ve been almost too busy to find a moment to just be with each other - no geographical profiling or paperwork. All they wanted was to be able to sit down and watch a movie, or an episode of Doctor Who without thinking of work or worrying about another urgent case. 

Looking over at JJ, who looked radiant as ever, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming sense of belonging. JJ made everyone welcome, so did Pen. Something she never really found anywhere else, from school to her jobs before working for the BAU, and now she’s found that belonging she was so desperately searching for. 

Emily was an enigma though. Her closest friend, they were both so similar. They failed to let most people in, but after years of holding those walls up they eventually have to come down or are broken down by someone else. They broke down each other’s walls. Emily was always there when she needed reassurance, and likewise although Emily rarely needed it. 

She found all she dreamt of as a teenager; a chosen family. All of them were pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together. 

It was not secret by now that Rossi loved to cook, and that JJ would almost certainly go if there was a promise of wine. So dinner parties became a fixture every once and a while with Hotch at the helm of persuading and convincing Rossi to have another. It was always another opportunity to pick up a new recipe to try out at home for Jack. 

Walking in, they were met with wolf whistles and compliments from Morgan (which was to be expected anyways) and a rare smile from Hotch. She was not anticipating Spencer to be there early but there he was. 

He caught her eye as soon as she walked in, looking her up and down and giving her a shy smile. 

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself.” She replies, her eyes full of love and joy. “You look very handsome tonight.”

“Why, thank you. You look beautiful as always.” 

Just a small compliment gives her butterflies. They’ve been together for over a year and have known each other for years yet it feels as though she’s a teenager every time he smiles; she’s taken back to the days of high school crushes, school dances and hearts in notebooks. She gives him a small thank you and her brightest smile as they wrap their arms around each other, taking in the other’s warmth. The only word she could use to describe the comfort of his embrace was home. She was home in his arms.

The night went on as it usually did; full of laughter, food and happiness. Memories they would all hold onto until they couldn’t anymore. It made their job easier to know that they could always find happiness within each other. 

Out on the porch, everything was still, Spencer’s suit jacket was wrapped around her body. Everything about the night was perfect. To put it in the simplest terms, she was truly happy. 

Falling asleep next to Spencer was the easiest part of her day, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his soft breathing lulled her to sleep with the biggest smile on her face. 

She had the one in her arms and she never intended to let him go. And neither did he. 

Funny how life turns out. 

“I persist and resist the temptation to ask you,  
If one thing had been different,  
Would everything be different today?” 

Throwing her work back down at the front door of her cold, lonely apartment was now routine. No more laughter walking into the threshold of her home, or the smell of freshly brewed coffee from his cup. Just loneliness. 

Photos had been taken down, the memories too painful to walk by every day, and with nothing to replace them with, the tables, walls and fridge lay bare of any memory of what once was. Pulling out leftovers from last night’s dinner, she waits for the low ding of the microwave as she steps out of her shoes and jacket. Cooking, even three months on, is lonely now too since they used to do it together. But she supposes, they did everything else together too. 

She opens another cheap bottle of wine. It’s Friday, Saturday can deal with her hangover. 

Tucking her legs into her chest, she cradles the glass of wine in one hand. The orange glow of the streetlights below illuminate her living room. Staring out into the street, she feels it again. That aloneness. It comes and goes in waves, but like any wave when it hits you, it stuns you. It’s a cold and dark feeling. No longer does she feel the ghost of his arms wrapped around her at night, or the grip of his hand in hers. Now, there’s nothing. 

Just her and what could have been.

She often asks herself that if things had been different, if they had just talked to one another, what would today have looked like. But then she thinks that’s no use, things would have stayed the same. She changed with the seasons, he didn’t. 

Hindsight is a beautiful thing, but it can’t help her now.

She wonders about what he would change. If there was one thing that he would do differently. She also wonders about what he wouldn’t change and what he really wanted.

Did he ever dream of settling down someday? She was never one for a white picket fence life but he made her want it so desperately. Did he ever dream about seeing her in a white dress or running around a garden with a child? Did he ever think about what they would name their kids? Did he ever want any of that?

Sometimes she thought all he wanted was a constant until something better came along. Maybe, she thought, he believed that what they had was always going to be an end table. That one of them would give up and it would be over as soon as it started. 

The red liquid swirled around the glass as she tried to resist the temptation to call him, to ask him these questions, to apologise. Finishing it off, she grabs her phone, unlocks it and clicks his contact. 

She could never bring herself to change his contact photo. It was a picture of them back in August of last year. Sun-kissed with honeymoon love struck eyes, the photo still made her smile despite all the pain. 

She let her finger hover over the button. 

Maybe she would get her answers tonight.


	2. chapter two - cardigan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reader reflects upon her first time with spencer, upon the loss of her father and whether or not she did enough to save their relationship. 
> 
> warnings: death/loss of a loved one.

“sequinned smile, black lipstick,  
sensual politics.  
when you are young they assume you know nothing.”

This case hit the team particularly hard. Child abductions could either end with a happy ending or… This one was not one of those times. She was sure Reid had a statistic but they were all too exhausted to even keep their eyes open on the jet. The air was somber and tense - everyone feeling all too guilty to indulge in any kind of conversation. 

By the time the plane had landed, none of them had slept and it was completely dark outside. She knew she needed a drink and a strong one at that. Reid had sat by her the entire flight home, she noticed how he could barely focus on his book in front of him, his shoulders completely tense. The 20,000 words per minute was slashed to 10 minutes. She hated yet understood that they all felt guilty, but there was always a special sadness in her when Reid was upset. He was the one negotiating, all that weight fell on his shoulders and she just wanted to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay. 

They all filtered into the office, Reid following sluggishly behind her. This was routine now, having only been at the bureau for just shy of a year, she had learnt how everyone took their coffee or tea, what time they all headed home with Hotch and Reid being the last out of the doors. She’d become accustomed to joining them in burning the late-night oil. 

Reid didn’t even spare a glance at the kitchen as he sat down at his desk, a frown etched onto his face. She just wanted him to smile. 

Making his coffee was second nature to her now; she knew exactly how much sugar he took depending on how he was feeling. Smiling to herself, she placed his mug on his desk and as he glanced up she walked back to her own desk to start working on the post-case paperwork and other cases she’d been asked to consult on. 

She didn’t see it but he smiled. Only slightly but he did.

A few hours passed when she was finishing up her last file when a note was dropped onto her desk as Reid walked past her desk.

'Would you like to get a drink at Dan’s tonight? - S’

Grinning, she packed up all her files into her go-bag, grabbed her coffee cup and jacket meeting him in the kitchen. Silent words were exchanged as they met each other’s eyes, walking in sync towards the elevator. 

“Didn’t take you for a Dan’s person, pretty boy.”

He blushed at the nickname, she rarely used it. “I-i just thought you could use a bit of respite is all.” 

“We both could.” She giggled, nudging him with her shoulder. “You barely read your book on the way home and you couldn’t concentrate on your files, is everything okay? 

She didn’t want to push him into talking to her, he would talk when he felt comfortable. However, his silence after her question and his eyes trained on the pavement made her nervous.

“N-not that you have to tell me! I just worry about you.”

His head snaps up. He meets her eyes with a slight smile.

“All I know is that I’m okay when I’m with you.”

After nursing a few drinks between them, despite both of them knowing they were lightweights, they stumbled out of Dan’s and into a cool January night. Pressed up against a streetlight, she grabbed onto the lapels of his suit jacket. 

They’d spent the night talking about the case. How much she saw herself in the kids that were abducted. How he felt as though he had let everyone down. Her heart broke at his vulnerability. 

Their noses were so close, she could feel his hot breath fan across her face; the smell of whiskey and wine mixed together. On a cold, winter night, they were each other’s warmth. Taking him in under the dim, amber streetlight she traced his features as if it was the last time she would ever see him, ever hold him, ever be this close to him. 

His hair was short yet long, he was growing it out. She liked it either way. She’d have him anyway just as long as he was hers.  
His eyes bore into hers, occasionally flickering down to her lips, filled with the same yearning and desperation she felt herself filled with.  
His lips. She watched as he swiped his tongue across them. Suddenly she was sixteen again at homecoming waiting for that first perfect kiss. 

In his embrace, she felt whole. No feeling of loneliness nor was this just pure lust. That underlying promise of something more made her stomach sink. She tried to figure out what was going on in his head.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She laughed.

They pulled back from a moment, the intimacy of their embrace broken.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nodded. 

Their lips connected and winter disappeared. It was sweet, his lips soft against hers. Her hand rested on the nape of his neck, his on her hips pulling her into him. Moving together, they were intoxicated by each other. She could now taste the whiskey on his tongue, each of her senses was consumed with Spencer. Just Spencer. Running her hands through his hair, she doesn’t want to let go. 

Their lips parted, the cold breeze cut between them. Giddy smiles graced before their faces as he brushed her hair out of her face. A mutual understanding that they need each other, unspoken they know how much they do. She’d never needed someone as much as she needed him.

She tries to calm her breathing, her heart beating so fast it might burst out of her chest, as they walk wrapped in each other back to his apartment. His hand rests on her hip, rubbing small circles into it as they walk home. She had never seen him as brave as he was tonight.

Yet nervousness surrounded them both. They were so young, they knew so little but so much about the other. 

She wanted everything. 

“when i felt like an old cardigan  
under someone’s bed,  
you put me on and said i was your favourite.”

The note he wrote all that time ago is tattered now and she toys with it. She’s kept all of the notes he’s passed her since her first day at the Bureau. She knew that he would profile her, it’s why he left the notes.

She knew that he understood that she sometimes needed a reason to smile, that he wanted to make her laugh and to make their working days just that little bit easier.

She wonders if he ever kept her responses. 

The warmth of his cardigans that she used to wrap around herself when they queued up a new documentary on Netflix or when they watched an episode of Doctor Who together always reminded her of the warmth between them that first night they shared together. 

Curling up further in her leather armchair, she tries to recall his touch. Trying to remember how his hands felt as they brushed her inner thighs, on the small of her back, or the place where she needed them most. She can’t remember where he used to hold her but she remembers how it made her feel.  
Even on her worst days, the days were the grief, frustration and sadness were all too much, his embrace made her feel as though he was the sun; the centre to her universe and she was a whole galaxy of stars passing through. Old wounds healed and winter turned to spring in his arms. 

But even that feeling has started to fade as his eyes no longer look at her as though she lightens up the night sky, now they just look through her. 

It’s hard for her to pinpoint the exact moment things went wrong. Maybe they just left their rose-coloured glasses on for too long to avoid the reality that everything was collapsing around them. 

The pain she held in heart, all the times she felt used or abandoned, became non-existent in his presence. The pure happiness he brought her she finds hard to describe; he reminded her of hot chocolate on an autumn night, but he also reminded her of the hot sun beating down on your back as you lie on the beach with nothing but the sound of gentle waves to keep you company. 

She wonders if she ever brought him the same happiness he did for her? 

It keeps her up at night. All the questions. What did she do right? What did she do wrong? Can it be fixed? But she reminds herself that it’s been months, if fate wanted them together she’d still be waking up on the other side of town to the smell of coffee and Beethoven. 

“you drew stars around all my scars,  
but now i’m bleeding.”

The monitor flatlined, piercing through the silence of the blisteringly white, pristine hospital room.

She knew that she would lose him eventually. Just not like this. 

This was her father - the one constant in her life since she lost her mother. He was her closest friend, confidant and companion. He taught everything she knows about life, love and good food. She needed more time. She was only young, she even believed their assumptions that she knew nothing and this was proof. 

Finally, she allowed herself to weep. Hopeless tears rolled down her cheeks as Spencer wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him. Her head pressed against where his heart lay in his chest. Even his heartbeat couldn’t calm her down.

Too weak to carry herself, the doctor’s words to her barely registered to her. All she knew was that it wasn’t painful, he didn’t suffer. Her father was finally at peace. 

That provided her no comfort in that moment. 

She can’t recall the week leading up to the funeral. Every day felt as though she was outside of herself, watching everything else happen. She felt numb, frozen in one place, and unable to move. People tackle grief in different ways, she knows the stages, yet she never felt herself go through any of them. She was completely and utterly disembodied by grief. 

She listened to the kind words at the wake, at the funeral. She tried to remember them all but all she could think about was Spencer’s hand in hers. His gentle squeezes brought her back down to earth, out of the turmoil in her mind. 

She thinks about how her Dad told him to take care of her. She remembers overhearing a conversation about blessings but she let that go a long time ago, they were too young for marriage her father would always joke.  
She knew he was trying to be there for her as much as he could be, he couldn’t take time off of work to provide her with the support she needed. All he could do was call, check in as often as he could. The distance only made her heart shatter more and more. He didn’t urge her to talk about how she was feeling, he knew it would come in time but she all she wanted was that embrace. She wanted to feel his hands lightly trace her skin, the feeling alone mended the scars on her heart. But he wasn’t there.

“i knew you,  
tried to change the ending,  
peter losing wendy.”

She didn’t blame him for not being there. Work was as demanding as ever, that was the excuse time and time again. Then again, they were both not ones for sharing their feelings - she knew that he agreed with her when it came to spilling their souls. Sometimes it felt as though they were burdening each other with the weight they both held on their shoulders. Despite all the instances where they told each other that they would be there for it all, they still held back.

She didn’t know how to trust him with it.  
He didn’t know how to express how scared he really was. 

Their love was reminiscent of first love; full of childlike wonder, hope, and open to the world and its seasons. 

But everyone grows up. Everyone is faced with the reality of life. Things come to end, there is suffering and there is happiness - everyone, whether you believe it or not, is in the hands of fate.

She laughed at the thought of Spencer believing in fate, he was a man of science after all. She believed that it was fate that they met that day, that they fell in love. She always will but she wonders if it was fate that pulled them apart or just a set of cruel circumstances and their fears of vulnerability. 

The loss of her father impacted her in ways she struggled to comprehend herself. Her heart started to come apart that day, the cracks starting to show. 

She loved her father, she was grateful for all he did. Her mother passed when she was 7 and her father never faltered. He taught her all she needed to know about love, about who to love, and who to let go. She didn’t know who to be without him. She had so much more to share with him. 

She needed Spencer there and he wasn’t. Somedays he was so quiet she wondered if he had left his or her apartment. He never made her a cup of tea when the jet landed late, he never left her any notes, he never touched her anymore. 

She tried to convince herself that she had done all that she could to try and save the sinking ship that was their relationship; cooking his favourite meals, bookshop dates, movie dates, long walks whenever they could. She tried talking to him, to try and get him to tell her how he felt but he shut it down. She knew it was easy to point fingers and place the blame on him for the end of their relationship but it’s not that simple. Maybe she stopped paying attention to everything he said, maybe she was too closed off, maybe she missed the signs. Maybe she clung onto him too much or maybe she left him alone too often.

For now, the loss is too much. From her father to her love, it crushes her. Each glass of wine provides her with the liquid courage to press that call button. But each time she reaches for it, she retracts and her nerves kick in. 

Letting go is easier said than done, but all she needs right at this very moment is his embrace. Maybe just one more glass. Maybe then she’d call and he’d come back to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, this chapter was hard for me to write and i really hope that the characterisation is still there and that things aren't too confusing! i'm not comfortable writing smut (at least not yet) so i didn't want to include it in this chapter but maybe later on. 
> 
> this chapter hasn't been proofread by my beta soooo this should be fun. 
> 
> i really appreciate those who left comments and kudos - it means a lot. i haven't written fic in a very long time and hopefully my skills as a 14 year old on wattpad have improved over the years. 
> 
> i'm really trying to keep my updates on a two day schedule but it all depends upon how busy i am etc.. 
> 
> thank you guys for reading, please leave me suggestions and whatnot in the comments it would really help lol


	3. the last great american dynasty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reader remembers a night out with her girl's a week after her break up with spencer.

“there goes the maddest this town has ever seen,  
she had a marvellous time ruining everything.”

It had been one week since he walked out of her apartment, the echo of the door closing still reverberating through her home. 

She was tired. Work was strenuous, to say the least, Hotch having to avoid pairing the two of them together, they could barely look at one another. Having to explain to your unit chief that the relationship they swore wouldn’t get in the way of work ended bitterly was, to put it simply, embarrassing. Hotch said little, just offered her a sad smile when he noticed how rundown she was and asked if she needed a few personal days. 

Both of them refused to take time off.

Morgan had to beg Garcia to not say anything, to either of them, which was easier said than done for her but she watched with despair as her friends slowly became shells of people. Emily and JJ had held her the whole weekend, letting her cry her heart out.

By the end of the week, every member of the team was exhausted by the dark cloud that surrounded them both. So, naturally, Garcia suggested they go out for drinks and invite some of her friends. Surprisingly, she was all for it - all she wanted to do was to drown her sorrows in alcohol. She just wanted to forget.

Forget his touch. Forget his smile. Forget his voice. For just one night. 

Emily was worried about her. She watched as her friend got herself ready, copious amounts of concealer to cover up her lack of sleep and the sexiest thing she owned. Emily was pretty sure she hadn’t worn that dress since college, it was evident in the way she kept pulling them down every time she stood up. The large glass of rose that sat on her vanity table was nearly gone by the time she’d finished putting on her makeup and fixing her hair. 

Garcia and Emily had to keep a watchful eye over her, both of them only sipping slightly on their Gin and Tonics every once in a while. JJ was busy with Henry and promised she’d join them later. Emily and Garcia both knew it was because Spencer was babysitting Henry that night. 

They were torn between them both. JJ and Spencer were inseparable but she had found a close friend in Y/N. Emily and Y/N shared a bond so special not even Morgan and Garcia could match it but she cared for Spencer too - she knew them both too well and it did more than just hurt to see them this pained. 

Garcia, on the other hand, was heartbroken with them. Ever terrified of losing her friends, she was worried that one of them would leave the team. As she looked over at Y/N putting on her bravest face, she knew it could be her. She didn’t want to dwell on the possibility that Spencer could leave her too. 

Surrounded by her friends, Y/N didn’t feel so lost anymore. She felt grounded for a while like she could tell the forest from the trees. Yet with every glass of wine, she couldn’t help but let her mind drift to the nights where she would sit with a glass of white, him with a whiskey and they would talk. Just talk.

She can’t help but think that she ruined everything - she was too clingy, didn’t give him enough space. She can’t help but recall her college friend’s faces over FaceTime when she told them - they tried to cover it up as much as they could but they looked at her as if she was the maddest woman they’d ever met. 

“Flew in all her Bitch Pack friends from the city,  
Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names  
And blew through the money on boys and the ballet.”

Spencer didn’t like her college friends.

Scratch that. He hated them. 

They were obnoxiously loud, careless and the complete opposite of Y/N. But she knew he tried not to judge. He was as kind to them as he was to anyone else, she just knew he disagreed strongly with their idea of a night out. 

He pictured going to see a movie, or a nice meal in a nice restaurant.   
They pictured bars, shots, and taxis home at 3am. 

Maybe that’s why she invited them to join the BAU girls night out - she knew they bothered JJ, Emily, and Penelope but they never said anything. So, she just let it go. Maybe she invited them as some kind of revenge or a chance to drive the knife in a little bit further. Maybe it was none of that - she just needed attention. 

Amber and Paige were her roommates in college - they were there for the first boyfriends, breakups, hookups and drunken mistakes. It’s hard to admit that sometimes people grow apart. She wanted to cling onto a sense of normalcy at least. At most, she wanted to let her inhibitions go. 

Emily didn’t trust them. They were handing her shot after shot in the club, pulling her over to guys Y/N clearly wasn’t comfortable with talking to let alone flirting with. Amber and Paige were marvelling in her pain - they used it as a joke. She overheard something about Y/N finally breaking up with that nerdy, stuck up workaholic, something about Y/N could do better. Emily had to restrain JJ and Garcia from body slamming them into the bar. Y/N was too tipsy to comprehend their words. 

The club was full of people, the flares of the lights bouncing off the corners of the dance floor. The air was humid, sweaty bodies pressed together. JJ, Emily, Penelope, and Y/N felt incredibly out of place - the only time they would ever enter a club was during a case if it called for it, bars were more their style for a girl’s night out. Amber and Paige, however, were in their element. 

They acted like the college-aged students that occupied the dance floor and Y/N was immersed in it. Dancing with everyone she could, trying to drown herself and all the memories in them. 

She wanted to ruin the good times that were haunting her. 

For a while it was fun, blowing her money on shots and dancing into the next day. Then it was just her and Emily. Amber and Paige ditched them just a while ago, left her cold and exposed outside the club. She was used to that by now though. 

The only comfort she had was Emily rubbing the small of her back, reminding her she wasn’t as alone as she felt, as they sat in the taxi back to her apartment.

Everything was blurry and slow but she was sure she didn’t want to be alone.

“Can you stay with me tonight?” She asked, like a child crawling into bed with their mother.

“Anything for you.” was the reply. 

After that, the journey home is just blurred hues of traffic-lights and dim street lights guiding them home.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Emily said softly, ushering her into her room, helping her step out of her dress and into her pyjamas. She allowed the tears to flow freely for the first time that week.  
Emily swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked at her friend. 

“I miss him, Em.” she slurred.  
“I know you do.”

A calm silence fell over the two women.

“Do you remember that case in Florida? The one with the rituals?

Emily was surprised she could recall this much in her drunken state.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

It all came flooding back to her, a soft breeze on her skin and his arm wrapped around her waist as they stood on the pier. 

“That was the first time he told me he loved me.” Her eyes became heavy at the thought of that night. 

A sad smile graced Emily’s lips as she watched her closest friend drift to sleep. 

“pacing the rocks, and staring out at the midnight sea.”

She can’t recall much of that night but she knows she dreamt about that night in Miami. 

Nighttime was the only time when Spencer wasn’t really bothered by his headaches, so they walked hand in hand on that pier; she could feel and see the love he felt for her. She just hoped he could too.

These were the times that she wished she had his eidetic memory. She wants to remember each and every word they spoke. The ones ushered at night, holding each other, skin-on-skin. She wants to remember each glance, the way he would blush when she caught him staring. Some memories are so vivid, some are so dull that they fade to nothingness when she pushes for them.

Yet, her love still burns on. Does his?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i am so sorry this chapter is so short. writer's block has not been kind to me and i wasn't really sure what to do with this chapter (despite my exhaustive plan lol) and i'm not really happy with it but i'm pushing through. life has also been surprisingly busy despite lockdown etc which i wasn't really expecting tbh.
> 
> i really hope you guys are enjoying this!! it makes my day when i see kudos and comments - it's such a lovely feeling x


	4. exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spencer contemplates what went wrong, on his part, in his relationship with Y/N/

“i can see you standin’ honey,  
with his arms around your body,  
laughin’ but the jokes not funny at all.”

It had been 3 months, 2 weeks, 3 days. He wishes he could recall the exact time but, for once in his life, he can’t. 

There was life before Y/N and there was life with her, he never imagined that there would be a life without her; because if this is life…

The curse of having an eidetic memory is recalling every word, every glance, every silence, and every mistake. They filled his head every day, cacophonous and relentless. 

He knows that 50% of couples break up then reconcile, he knows that this is more typical for unmarried couples to do. Yet, statistics do nothing to calm his frustration at himself. Statistics don’t tell him what he can do to fix what is broken. 

There’s so much that he misses; her jumping at any chance to be with him, accompanying him to foreign film festivals, conventions, and anything he showed the slightest interest in. She would do anything for him, long before he ever called her his. 

He’s still processing the depth of his loss. He had convinced himself for the first month that he could carry on and ignore the chilling cold of his bed at night or the loneliness of the subway journey home. By the second month, he could hardly look at himself. Now, three months on, the pain is so visceral, so real, that he cannot escape the crushing silence that surrounds him. No more quiet conversations on the jet, or laughter in the bullpen.

He wonders if her apartment feels just as empty as his. 

He can’t help but let his mind wander to the conversation he overheard between Emily and Y/N in the bullpen - something about setting her up with a guy she knew from outside of work. He tried hard not to read into how reluctant she was accepting Emily’s offer or how defensive she looked when he went back to his desk.

What did he miss? Were there signs? Or did he, like he always did ignore the cracks as soon as they started to appear? 

He didn’t want to think about someone else holding her, making her laugh, or being the reason for her smile. 

It was dark outside, leaves littering the street, the rain pattering on his window. The sound of the occasional car passing by was the only sound that filled his apartment. Autumn was always his favourite season, it reminded him of change and growth, and when he first met her. It was cool that day, she was wrapped up in a royal blue knitted scarf and a soft brown worn coat - he swore to himself that he’d never seen anyone as beautiful before in his life. 

He could barely focus on anything nowadays, from paperwork to books, everything was too difficult to confront. Sure, he’d been attending meetings, discussing his urges to numb himself from the world again. The beginning of his battle with addiction came before she did, it haunted him. 

If he was being honest with himself, his addiction was the only thing he had fully confided in her. She gave him all the understanding that, at times, his own chosen family didn’t give him. He didn’t resent them for it but it was frustrating. 

He knew he immersed himself in work too often, the sea of paperwork and cases kept his head above the water that threatened to drown him. After all his years working for the BAU, he still didn’t know how to properly talk about what they witnessed. He tried to chalk it up to facts and probabilities, that evil exists in the world and all he can do is use what he knows to prevent it from happening again. But he couldn’t stop it from happening in the first place.

Despite how much responsibility he placed on his shoulders with his work, he questioned whether or not his career was what he really wanted. He’d promised he would find a cure for schizophrenia by the time he was thirty. Yet, here he is - alone, many a Ph.D. to his name but no overwhelming achievement.

He knew his first mistake was not telling her about how he was feeling. But he was angry, he didn’t know how to verbalise what was overwhelming him. Frustrated and choked up, he pushed her away. He kept telling himself that he felt suffocated, he was anxious that he would lose her to his job and he couldn’t prevent that. There was so much in his life that he couldn’t control. 

His mother wasn’t improving, getting worse day by day, and all he could do was stand by and watch. He could write as many letters, call every day, and visit as often as he could but he couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t change what was happening. 

He was surrounded by people he considered to be his family yet he felt alone. All the time. So, he pulled up his guard, plastered a smile on his face, and carried on. She would always go before him in his life, nothing could change that. 

Work had been…tense. He knew from the start that the girls would be protective of her and he didn’t blame them - he knew that very next day when she didn’t reply to his texts or calls or when JJ told him to ‘give her space. His only other option was Derek and his advice wasn’t, at times, what he wanted to hear. 

Derek told him to fix it actively but he wasn’t even sure what he was trying to fix. Himself or their relationship? Some big romantic gesture would win her back, he was told, but he knew she hated those. He tried bringing her favourite flowers, roses, but he would freeze up every time he got to her front door. By now, it wasn’t the season for roses and he was running out of options.

JJ, Emily, and Garcia never treated him any differently, he just felt exiled from their bullpen meet-ups. From the start, all he wanted was JJ’s advice. That night they all went out, he sat in her house with Henry, listening to him babble on about Aunt Y/N and Uncle Spencer. 

He won’t ever forget the sad look JJ gave him when he left, underlying anger and bitterness in her voice when she bid him goodnight. 

He can’t help but think that he had irreparably messed up. 

“all this time,  
we always walked a very thin line.” 

They always said that working together was more of a blessing than a curse, they were never without the other. They could read each other like the back of each other’s hand. Until one day, they couldn’t.

He wasn’t sure what switch flipped in his mind but his ability to be vulnerable with her and to open up completely was turned off. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the words to express what was going on in his mind. 

Then again, neither could she. That connection between them was lost, there was this impenetrable distance between them now. 

He couldn’t get comfortable in his chair, his glass of whiskey sitting beside his growing stack of books. He kept trying to find room for them but he just couldn’t bring himself to put them away - it reminded him of her apartment; books scattered on different tables, never on the shelf. It was the only trace of her left in his apartment. 

His pillow no longer smelt of her, sweet and fresh. Her toothbrush was no longer sitting by his sink nor her shampoo in his shower. He’d taken down the photos, they were too painful to look at almost every day. Yet, he still kept that scarf she had left at his apartment after one of their dates, the royal blue one. Her perfume was fading on that too. 

“you’re not my homeland anymore,  
so what am i defending?”

She had been quiet the entire car journey home, exhaustion clearly written on her face. Her brow was furrowed in thought. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked softly.

A slight smile flickered across her face for a split second. It went as quickly as it came, she was angry.

“I just want to get us home in one piece, Spence,” she snapped, “can you let me do that?”

“Sure.”

She wasn’t just angry, she was pissed.

By the time they got back to his apartment, she was tired, cold, and frustrated with him. He was equally as tired but grateful to be with her, alive and well. His run-in with the unsub resulted in an overnight stay in the hospital and minor surgery. Well, he thought it was minor. She clearly didn’t.

She didn’t stop for tea the way they normally would nor did she bother to leave the light on for him in the bathroom. She just crawled into bed without a word spoken to him since they’d gotten back to his apartment. In all honesty, he thought she was just going to drop him off then go back to her own home. He was surprised that she didn’t. 

Lifting the covers, he slid into bed as silently as he could as not to wake her. 

“What you did was really stupid, you know that?”

She was awake. He should’ve guessed. 

‘I know.”

She sighed, turning to face him, “Spencer, I know our jobs don’t exactly meet safety regulations but you can’t play the hero all the time. I had to tell myself a long time ago, that you can’t save everyone. I know you, Spence. You’re a good man, brave and you have more courage in you than literally every other man that I’ve ever met and I love you for it. But you can’t keep doing this to me, to us.”

“Doing what?”

“Scaring us all half to death. You don’t remember me holding your hand while we waited for the medics. You don’t remember Morgan telling me that you’d pull through. You didn’t get to see everyone’s faces in the waiting room. But I remember it all, I don’t think I’ll forget it.”

He was stunned into silence. 

“I could only think of the worst. How was I going to be able to tell your mother? How was I supposed to carry on knowing,” her voice broke and his heart shattered, “that I would never get to hold you again, or hear one of your many facts, or be able to explain how much you mean to me.” 

“But, you didn’t have to-“ he started.

“I know. You’re alive and I’m so grateful. But if you ever pull a stunt like that ever again…”

His smile was sad, “I won’t ever leave you. You’re my home. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

“And you’re mine too.” 

“i think i’ve seen this film before  
and i didn’t like the ending.”

The memory echoed in his mind. He thinks about what could have been, the family he pictured them having. He knew, even though it was unsaid, she wanted a little girl. He couldn’t lie and say that he wouldn’t want to see a miniature Y/N running around. He always wanted his own kids ever since Henry was born and something inside him changed when he saw you holding Henry for the first time. 

He saw his future before him.

Or so he thought. His dream disappeared when he heard his front door slam that night. He would give anything to take that night back. Take back the things that were said, the things left unsaid, and go after her. 

By now, he thought he was too late. He witnessed the most perfect, the most precious thing he had in his life play out like a Shakespearian tragedy on the big screen. His heartache played like a movie he had seen far too many times before. 

Maybe they were doomed from the start, their ending determined by fate. Something he only ever believed in with her.

“You can’t save everyone.” He couldn’t even save himself. He thought he was kidding himself when he thought he could ever win her back, too much time had passed, too much distance.   
There were oceans between them, and for too long he was too scared to start to cross the vast space. 

He stared at his now empty whiskey glass and out onto the street - the rain was heavier now. He had no idea what time it was, it was late. He wonders if she’s still up. If she’s sitting in that chair by her window, like he is, thinking about him.

His whole body aches for her touch. He aches to tell her everything, to apologise and to tell her all the small little things that have happened since they last spoke. Like how that mug she used to always drink out of shattered when he was putting it back in the cupboard and how he cried because he couldn’t glue it back together. Or how he searched and searched for a new one but he couldn’t find it so he decided to not buy a new one, it couldn’t be replaced. 

He would tell her that he listens to that Donny Hathaway song she used to always play in the car late at night. He’d like to think that she would be proud that he knows all the words - that he doesn’t just listen to Beethoven. Morgan told him to play a song over a boombox outside her window. He didn’t get the reference but he knew he would play that song. 

He opened his wardrobe to pull out his pyjamas when it caught his eye. The scarf, a shimmer of glitter caught in the moonlight.

He knew what he had to do. 

Grabbing his coat, keys, and the scarf, he opened his door and walked out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really enjoyed writing this chapter, i'm only worried that spencer is a little bit OCC but i'll let myself worry about that!!
> 
> i refer to the donny hathaway song, a song for you. it's one of my favourites and i could absolutely see spencer listening to it, despite his love of all things classical. 
> 
> thank you for all the kudos, comments and love!! it really does make my day & i hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as i loved delving deep into spencer's mind x


	5. my tears ricochet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> both reader and spencer remember the fight that broke them in half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: talk of addiction/mental health/grief/loss of a parent

“even on my worst day, did i deserve babe,  
all the hell you gave me?”

Y/N

It would be an understatement to say that she was having a bad week. 2 months after her father’s passing, the BAU was faced with a killer targeting fathers and daughters.

She promised them she was fine, and she tried to convince herself that she was fine too but she really wasn’t. She didn’t venture to the M.E’s office or the crime scenes, instead, she waited for families to arrive. 

JJ was sitting beside her as mother’s, brother’s, and son’s filtered in and out of the small office in the station. She sat there and wrote down all they had to tell them, her grip on her pen made her hand cramp. Listening to mothers recall how close the fathers were with their daughters, how inseparable and connected they were, broke her. 

Splashing cold water on her face in the bathroom, she looked in the mirror to find someone she didn’t recognise. Tear stains graced her skin, mascara lying underneath her eyes. She hadn’t truly processed how not-fine she was.

She told herself that she had mourned, the funeral had come and passed, the headstone had been placed and her childhood home packed up into millions of boxes. Just when she thought she was beginning to move forward with her life, grief came back again. That kind of grief that makes you numb, your senses dulled, and the world a lot more grey than it was that morning. Just when she thought she’d cried enough tears, there’s always more to be shed. 

She wasn’t altogether too sure what she was crying for; her own father or for those children, knowing the last thing they saw and heard was their father crying out for them. 

She kept looking at the girl she didn’t know. She looked so alone, so small. She’d lost weight, a little bit at least. She looked absolutely exhausted, lack of sleep apparent under her eyes. Her cheeks were hollowed out, she’d lost weight. 

Every day she covered the pain she carried with a smile and her head held high. Some days the facade slipped. That was this day. 

It was a constant battle, a thin line between sanity and losing it all. The tension between her and Spencer didn’t help.

They’d been arguing over small things. Things that you can’t really remember days later, but matter at the time. Somedays he looked at her like she would shatter into a million different pieces, other days it was completely blank.

The love she used to see had dimmed. Not gone, but the light she once saw was slowly losing its fire. The passion was no longer there too; he didn’t touch her as he used too. No squeezing her hand in the back of the jeep, no wrapping his arms around her while she made breakfast nor did he leave lingering kisses on her neck. 

She had conditioned herself into numbness, blocking out any sense of feeling or emotion. The walls she had built around her were supposed to keep out any impending attacks, but there were cracks. Sometimes the walls would tumble down, sometimes they would hold steadfast and strong. 

There was only so much she could take. 

“we gather stones, never knowing what they’ll mean  
some to throw, some to make a diamond ring.”

The stopping of the car woke her from her daydream. It was growing dark outside, a humid, clammy July night. Spencer didn’t speak a word to her as he closed the car door and walked towards his apartment building. 

Steps behind him, she could see the tension in his shoulders. 

He’d annoyed her. He dismissed her theory about the unsub possibly being a son who felt overlooked by his father (she came to be right) with such animosity the whole team was left stumped by the coldness he’d regarded her with. 

She tried to chalk it up to him having a bad day, giving him the benefit of the doubt, but then he treated similarly the next day and the day after that.

He was her home and she felt locked out in a thunderstorm, rain pouring down on her. She didn’t know what to do. So, she did the only thing she could think of.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She asked quietly as he put on a pot of tea.

He sighed in response.

“Spencer?” She moved towards him.

He exploded, “Just stop. Please, just fucking stop.” 

“Spencer I-“

“What? Are you going to tell me ‘I told you so’ or tell me how much I messed up, huh? ‘Cause I already got that from Hotch, and I certainly don’t need it from you.” 

“Excuse me? Why in the world would I ever do that? Is that what you think of me?”

Silence fell between them.

“Just drop it.” He looked completely dejected.

“You know what? I’m not going to just ‘drop it’. You’ve been acting like a complete stranger and I’m sick and tired of coming home to someone that won’t talk to me. I thought we could tell each other anything, Spence.”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

It was quiet, but she heard it.

“What?”

Silence.

“You’re kidding me, Spencer. I cannot believe you.” she scoffed. 

“It’s not like you tell me anything nor do I think you care about what I have to tell you.”

She had, for so long, felt as though she was living in a glass house - watching everyone from behind a thin sheet of glass. Caged in and lonely, she had nowhere to go. He threw the stones that broke her defences, shattered them to tiny pieces. 

His words sliced through her. She stood there for a moment, silent and dejected. 

“I don’t tell you anything? I don’t care about you?” Her voice was quiet. 

He didn’t reply. 

“I have been trying to tell you for weeks now, how much I love you, how I will always be here for you,” She continued, “I’ve been trying to tell you to talk to me, yet you never seem to want to. I’ve tried to tell you that I needed you.”

“Needed?”

“What?”

“You used the past tense. You don’t anymore.” He said matter-of-factly. 

She laughed sourly, “That's all you took from that?”

Once again, she was met with silence. 

“Do you really have nothing to say to me? Nothing at all that could possibly explain to me what the hell is going on with you? Because for the life of me, Spencer, I cannot figure it out.”

“you turned into your worst fears  
and tossing out blame, drunk on this pain,  
crossing out the good years.”

SPENCER 

The morning of the case, he’d gotten a call to say that his mother’s health was deteriorating. She wasn’t taking her medication and was refusing help.  
He hadn’t told anyone. Not even Hotch.   
If there was anyone he wanted to tell it was Gideon. And Gideon was gone. 

He knew that it was strange that for someone who could never stop talking at times, he couldn’t find the words to even begin to describe how he was feeling. 

Alone. Scared. Angry. Suffocated. Numb. Overwhelmed. 

Everything he knew was crumbling around him; his relationship with Y/N, his mother’s health, and himself. He was constantly feeling as though he hadn’t accomplished any of the things that he and others expected him to do.

He felt like a disappointment and it crushed him. He didn’t understand how he was surrounded by such loving, caring people. He couldn’t even reciprocate their love properly. 

He thought about taking Dilaudid again. Not that he would ever tell anyone that.

Addiction followed him like a dark cloud. He’d been to support group meetings whenever he could but that didn’t stop the urge to want to disappear again, feel something for once. He just wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. He constantly felt like he was falling and falling with no end in sight. Dilaudid gave him the release he couldn’t find in real life. 

He’d feel the urge then he’d look up, he’d see her and that feeling disappeared. 

So, he took his frustrations out on her.   
It was wrong and he knew it but he felt like she didn’t notice him anymore. Like she didn’t see that he was drowning, that he was so far removed from everyone. 

What he didn’t take into account was that she was too. 

He didn’t have anything to say when she asked him to explain, he truly didn’t. Nothing he could’ve said could have justified or properly explained how he was feeling and how he was acting. Anything he could have said would have made her feel guilty like it was her fault. And it wasn’t. He knew that now as she stood before him, hot tears ran down her cheeks.   
He realised he couldn’t blame her for anything. He couldn’t even blame himself. 

He swallowed harshly, he could see in her eyes the pain his words caused. But he was engulfed in flames, a fire he couldn’t put out. 

“Well?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

“God, I just want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

‘So much’, he thought, ‘and none of it’s your fault I promise, my love.’

“Spencer, I’m done fighting.”

He was losing her. His worst fear was coming true and he was frozen. Completely immobile. He didn’t know what to do. He’s panicking so he reaches for the only thing he can.

“Can we just talk about this some other time?” 

She laughs. It’s bitter.

“Some other time? When will that be Spencer? Cause, frankly, I’m sick and tired of waiting.”

“Just some other time. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Can’t deal with what?”

He loaded his gun and he fired.

“You.”

Now she was silent. The sound of both their hearts breaking filled the room. It killed him to push her away and it killed her to hear it from him. 

The room grew cold. Both of them stood in their trenches, no man’s land in between them. He took the first step. She immediately retreated. 

“Y/N I-“ He stopped as he met her eyes, emotionless and dead. 

“Save it, Spencer,” she mumbled, tears rolled down her cheeks. 

He wanted nothing more than to reach out and swipe them away, scoop her up in his arms and hold her tightly. He spent every day fearing that he would lose her and here he was, it wasn’t like anything he’d seen in his nightmares - no crazed killer. Instead, he was the one that pushed her away. Realisation flooded his body as he saw her pull her arms around her body; she only did that when she was overwhelmed. 

“Please, my love, I didn’t mean-“ 

“You’ve done enough.” The calmness in her voice sent a chill down his spine. 

He closed his eyes as he heard the door slam. Then he let his guard down, floored by the sobs that racked his body. 

He knew he had messed up but he didn’t know where else to go. He felt caged in, trapped in his own maze. 

His vision of their future was destroyed the second his apartment door slammed. His plans to make sure there was a diamond ring on her finger by the end of the year were demolished, the visions of little Y/N’s and Spencer’s faded into nothingness. 

He had ruined everything and he didn’t know how to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your lovely comments - this chapter was difficult for me to write, grief and mental health are not easy topics for anyone to delve into and if anyone reading this is going through anything, just know that it won't always be like this and to reach out to someone for help. it was the best thing i ever did! 
> 
> much love to you all!!


	6. mirrorball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dinner's at rossi's and dancing in the kitchen, y/n remembers all the times she shone for spencer.

“i’m a mirrorball,  
i’ll show you every version of yourself tonight.”

Pouring herself another glass of Rose, she remembered the first night she saw Spencer as more than just a workplace crush. The first night she had felt completely brave, lovesick, and reckless. 

She placed Joni Mitchell’s ‘Blue’ album on her record player and let the memories overtake her.

Nerves wracked her body as she stepped out of the taxi outside Rossi’s house. It was her first night out with the BAU team, she’d only joined the team two months ago. In those two months, she had found a close friend in Emily. 

Emily practically trained her and was her partner on most cases, she’d shown her the ropes and was always there to talk about each case after they were over. Her job was less daunting with Prentiss by her side and she couldn’t be more grateful for the rest of the team too.

She also found herself harbouring a small crush on the BAU’s local genius, Dr. Spencer Reid. It wasn’t enough that he was incredibly attractive and smart, he also had to be one of the most caring men she’d ever met. It would be easy for anyone to be sweet on him. He was oblivious to her suggestions of grabbing coffee or going to the new exhibit in one of DCs many museums, often inviting JJ or Morgan along.

One time he invited Rossi on their last case. She had never felt more embarrassed when Rossi asked her afterward if she wanted to be alone with him. He reassured her that Spencer felt the same, but she found it hard to believe that the man that avoided her like the plague could ever like her. 

So she buried the feelings and carried on. She knew she would never have the confidence to act on them. 

Wrapping her arms around herself, each step she took up to the front door was filled with trepidation until she heard a soft voice call out her name.

Spencer.

She spun on her heels to see him dressed in a shirt and suit jacket. He’d cut his hair too. He looked good.

“Doctor Reid! You cut your hair! It suits you.” 

Red blush filled his cheeks. 

Nervously, he thanked her and offered her his arm. Nodding she took it as they walked arm in arm. 

Before she could knock, he stopped her.

“You don’t need to be nervous. They all love you, you know.” 

She giggled, “How’d you know I was nervous?” 

“That,” he pointed to her arms twisted around her torso, “you only do that when you’re either overwhelmed or nervous.”

That stunned her. He actually paid attention to her?

“Ah, the joys of working with profilers…” 

“No! I didn’t mean to be creepy or-“

“Spence, it’s not creepy. In fact, you’re nervous too.”

“Pardon?” He sputtered.

“Your voice is softer when you’re unsure, it’s your tell.” 

It was his turn to be stunned as she knocked on the front door; it opened to reveal a slightly tipsy Penelope behind it. 

“The good doctor and my sunshine! Come on in, wine is a-flowing!”

Laughing, she shot Spencer a small smile as Garcia dragged her towards the kitchen.”

Stories of college days and cases past were recalled lovingly over a few bottles of wine and homemade food. Music flooded through the radio, Carole King and Sam Cooke playing throughout the night. 

She felt as though she was coming home like she had been away from home for so long. She had finally found her place in the world, she no longer felt like someone on the outside, always looking in. She felt known and accepted - a feeling she had been searching for her entire life.

She’d already bid Hotch and JJ goodnight when she decided to throw in the towel, just as she dialled the taxi company Spencer stopped her. 

“I’m sober. I’ll give you a ride home.” 

Emily gave her a knowing smile as she and Spencer said their goodnights and walked to his car, an old, beat-up Volvo.

Normally for someone so talkative, he was quiet. She assumed he was just concentrating on the road and her directions, she’d later find out that he was so flustered by her he couldn’t find the words to try to start a conversation. In his own words, he didn’t want to embarrass himself. 

In the stillness of the night, through the radio came a song she hadn’t heard since she was a girl in her dad’s jeep. 

Humming along, she couldn’t help but steal a glance at Spencer, a kind smile rested on his face permanently until he dropped her off. 

“hush, when no one is around, my dear,  
you’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes  
spinning in my highest heels, love  
shining just for you.”

The next time the song played when they were together was seven months later. April showers meant their planned date became a stay-at-home one. She and Spencer had pulled apart her cupboards and refrigerator to make a meal. 

Spencer took a shower as she stood at the sink, humming along and swaying her hips. Singing along turned into her own concert for no one, dancing without a care in the world as she scrubbed clean their plates and each pot and pan.   
Spencer watched her shine, she lit up any room. She had no inhibitions, nothing holding her back. She was unbridled joy, sunshine in her smile, and gold in her eyes. 

She caught his eyes as he stood in the doorway, laughing with her. Grabbing his hands, she pulled him into her as the music changed; Billy Joel’s ‘Just The Way You Are’ floating through her kitchen. They fit together like two missing pieces of a puzzle, the answer to a life-long riddle. She laughed at his awkward stance. 

“What are you laughing at? I don’t know how to dance!” He pouted.

“Just hold me and sway Spence,” she giggled.

And he did. They clung to each other as if the world was ending, everything else faded away. It was just them and only them. 

She didn’t feel like she had to perform for him, she could just be herself. All her faults and imperfections didn’t bother her with him; he made her feel as though she was enough. She didn’t have to change herself for him to like her - he would have her anyway. As she would with him.

She knew she was fragile, that if she broke she would break into a million different pieces. He made her feel strong and secure like she could beat the demons that haunted her. That she was worthy of every good thing in her life, that she was worthy of the love he gave her. 

At that moment, in his arms, she was enough.

“i’m still on that tightrope.  
i’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me…  
i’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me.”

The memory was bittersweet. 

Dancing in the refrigerator-light became their way of unwinding. Music was never off in either of their apartments; Spencer had some classical pieces on, she had some early 70s to late 80s records on. For three months, there’s only been silence. 

As time passed, he no longer laughed at her when she swayed or hummed along. He would perch himself on the edge of the couch, reading or watching some documentary. She would wash the dishes before showering. The domesticity of the situation would look normal to any outsider, but it was ice-cold between them; stuck in a stalemate they didn’t know how to get out of.

Yet, she believed that everything would work out. If it wasn’t meant then, it could in the future. She held onto that hope for a while after they split but he couldn’t look at her. When she looked at him, he no longer met her gaze. There were no stolen glances in the bull-pen, in the conference room, or on the jet. She didn’t ride with him in the SUV nor did they work on geographic profiles together. 

Everything she had tried, she thought, didn’t work then and it wasn’t working now.

All she ever wanted was for him to look at her and really, truly see her. For him to know and love her for her, not some mirrored version of herself. 

As she sat with her second glass of Rose, she couldn’t help but believe that she had ruined everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! once again, thank u for all the love and support!! 
> 
> i love this chapter so much and i hope you guys do too!!
> 
> i'm posting two chapters tonight so please read the notes at the end of the next chapter x


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spencer recalls the days after y/n's father's passing and all the words he wished he would have said.

“i hit my peak at seven,  
feet in the swing over the creek,  
i was too scared to jump in.”

‘Dear Mom,

It’s Spencer. I really loved hearing back from you the other day. It’s nice to know that you are settled now. The next chance I get I will come and visit - for now, this letter will have to suffice.

The other day I was thinking about when Dad left. You used to take me for walks around the local park, we would even stop to play chess. I remember you pushing me on the swings and telling me about a creek you used to go to during your summer as a child. You would read books there, play with your friends. You always promised you would take me there someday.

Well, I took Y/N there. I hope you remember her. Her father passed away a week ago. I took her there because you told me how calm it was there, how beautiful it was. I took some pictures to show you that nothing has changed; it’s just as you remember it.

My work is a constant reminder of all the evil things in the world, how ugly humanity can be. You taught me to remember the beautiful things so I wanted to thank you. Thank you for telling me about the creek - Y/N loved it. She smiled for the first time in weeks. Thank you for showing me the beautiful things in life and for making her smile. 

Love you to the Moon and to Saturn.

Yours always,  
Spencer.’ 

His pen placed on his desk, he sighed. All week he had watched her, she was completely overcome by grief. He ran her baths and held her while sobs wracked her body. He fought back his own tears as he watched the love of his life dwindle into nothingness. 

He was grieving too. Her father was the one he never had, treated him like he was part of their family. He’d even talked with her father about proposing, the family they would have in the future.

That was before his diagnosis. 

After his diagnosis, the dream of her father walking her down the aisle became an unknown factor. He knew that malignant brain tumours had a 12% survival rate, and full recovery wasn’t promised either. They’d caught the tumour late on. There wasn’t much they really could do. 

He was trying his hardest but even that didn’t feel good enough. Most days he felt mentally drained, he was exhausted. He pulled through it for her, he knew he had too. He had to provide her with as much support as he could.

Then work called and he had to go. He didn’t have an option. It grounded him for a while, let him get back to himself. He could focus on maps and paperwork rather than the four walls of his or her apartments. It gave him a chance to clear his head but it also reminded him more strongly of the evils of humanity. 

His fear of losing all those closest to him grew stronger with each case and he didn’t know what to do. He was lost in his own intrusive, never-ending thoughts of hypotheticals and what could be.

He spent so long questioning whether or not the world could still be beautiful after all he had seen and been through himself. 

After Tobias, he questioned everything he was living for. The luck of love never seemed to be on his side. Until her.

Until Y/N walked into his life, with childlike wonder in her eyes that never died despite all they saw and turned it upside down. She showed him how to love not only others but also himself. She taught him to be grateful for the smaller details in life - a gentle breeze on skin, the smell after rainfall, or the gift of a perfect sunrise. She taught him to love the seasons, showing him the growth and transitions as they came. Leaves on the ground and newly sprung flowers became symbols of their time spent together. 

Even as she lied in his arms and cried, he had never seen anything more beautiful than her. No science or study could change how infinite his love for her is, it would last for this lime time and the next. All he wanted was to ease her pain, show her all the things she showed him.

At the creek it was humid, the sun beat down on them. They let their feet dangle in the water as they sat on the edge of the lake. An old swing sat opposite them - he could picture his mother in her youth there. 

“Thank you, Spence.”

“For what?”

She didn’t reply, the last thing she said to him before a calm silence settled over them was,

“It’s beautiful.”

She smiled and his world lit up.

The silence between them was full. There was so much he wanted to say but he couldn’t find the words. So he decided to wait until another time when the timing was right. When he had figured everything out, when he’d weighed up each probability and outcome. He would say it then.

“passed down like folk songs,  
our love lasts so long.”

He put his keys into his ignition of his old, manilla Volvo, the hum of the engine shuddering through the car. Taking a deep breath, he sat in the car. 

He really couldn’t believe this was his reality. He kept questioning whether or not to do this. He wasn’t all that impulsive, he preferred calculated plans. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would be even contemplating this. 

Then he heard it. Their song. And he knew what he had to do.

He put the car in reverse, pulled out of his car parking space and on to the near-empty street.

It reminded him of the drive up to the creek, it felt a lot longer than it actually was. The silence in the car that day made him think at times that she wasn’t even in the car with him, he looked over at the passenger seat multiple times to check if she was there.

He remembers what Morgan told him after that fight. 

‘Screw timing’, he thought, ‘it’s now or never,’

“There’s nothing that cannot be fixed if you just tell her how you feel, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo, i hope you guys enjoyed that chapter! bit a shorter than the rest but i'm trying to savour the good bits for later on!
> 
> sadly, this week there won't be any updates - i'm going camping in the irish countryside with no access to my laptop/wifi for two days and my exam results come out on thursday so i'll honestly be too stressed and tired to write well for you guys. i'll (hopefully)be hungover on friday and liquid courage might help me write the next chapter lmao - anyways, i'm really sorry and i should be back writing in no time. 
> 
> thank you all so much x


	8. august

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> during his drive, spencer remembers his trip the past august with reader and contemplates the 'what if's and whether he's making a rash decision or not.

“i never needed anything more,  
whispers of ‘are you sure?’  
‘never have i ever before.’”

The glare of headlights filtered through his car as he drove down the main street, few cars passed. Red and green lights mixed together as he reached each stoplight. 

The reality of what he was about to do hit him, just 20 minutes from her apartment he thought about turning back.

The ‘what if’s’ swirled around in his head. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he truly hadn’t changed and he was just kidding himself? What if she was better off without him?

He would be lying if that last thought didn’t make tears pool in his eyes. 

The late-night drive, however, did remind him of August's past. When he pulled up outside her apartment when they had the rare week off and told her to get in. Alex Blake had kindly given them the use of her beach-side Hampton’s summer home. The five-hour drive stretched well into the night.

He could remember her laughter in the passenger seat and her soft snores as they travelled down the highway. Talking nonsense and playing ‘I spy’ to pass the time before the sun began to set, the sky turning from blue into a purple-pink sky with red hues. 

Before she drifted to sleep she turned towards him and whispered, “Red sky at night shepherd’s delight, red sky in the morning shepherd’s warning.” 

The memory made him smile.

It also made him wonder if this was worth it. If he was too late.

…

“So you’re telling me you’ve never played ‘Never Have I Ever’?” She giggled. 

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’, he shrugged.

Pulling herself onto his lap, she peered up at him.

“Well then,” she sighed comically, “guess I’m just going to have to take your Never Have I Ever virginity! Pass me the wine.”

Tipsy and thinking nothing of it, he passed her the wine. 

Hours passed and the questions got dirtier and dirtier. No longer did he blush or feel awkward at her suggestive comments, he made them himself. 

They were both slurring, roaring with laughter at times. He had never felt more whole.

“Awk, Spencer, pick your jaw up from the floor.” She straddled him, her finger traced along his jawline. 

He smiled up at her before pressing his lips to hers. His hands rested on her hips, she was fully pressed into his chest. She toyed with the buttons on his shirts as he kissed her neck. 

He could not describe the utter state of bliss he was in; all he could feel, see, and hear was her. Her soft whimpers at his touch, her soft butterfly kisses on his chest, her bright eyes staring back at him, so full of love and adoration. He never wanted that feeling to end. He had never felt braver as he slipped off her top, placing kisses down her stomach and her thighs, watching her body react to his touch and the soft gasps that escaped her lips. He was on a high that he believed would never end, her touch was like ecstasy, he was filled with complete euphoria. 

Whispered ‘I love you’s’ passed between them, he finally knew how it felt to be a teenager falling in love for the first time. She was his true first love. She was the kiss under the bleachers that he never got. She was the prom date he had waited for. He felt 13 years younger with her - shy, bashful and unsure. 

The universe and all its questions had all its answers when he was with her. 

“august slipped away into a moment in time,  
cause it was never mine,  
and I can see us twisted in bedsheets,  
august sipped away like a bottle of wine.”

The memory of the past August made him smile. They spent the day on the beach, reading and Y/N pulling him into the water despite his protests of it being too cold. They cooked together, showered together, and spent every other moment with each other. If he thought hard enough he could still remember the smells of the local Italian restaurant, the smell of each bottle of red, white and rose wine they drank. He could recall every word that was said.

“I love you.”

“The earth has rotated roughly 212.9 times in the seven months we’ve been together.”

“Not a more accurate figure, no?” 

“I’m not a calculator, my love.”

He laughs audibly at the memory. He took so much for granted; how she would listen to his ramblings about everything and anything, especially things she didn’t understand. She would listen so intently, her eyes following his every word and gesture, and she would try her best to talk about astrophysics or whatever his chosen topic was in her own vocabulary, in a way she could understand.

She thought his mind was amazing, he thought her mind was too. 

She was patient. She was kind. She was kind. 

The memories don’t feel like they are his. They are only a slippery slope into madness. Tempting him back to the days of curling up on his sofa clutching some novel that reminds him of her.  
His copy of Pride and Prejudice is now completely worn as he finds himself reading it over and over, remembering the sound of her voice of one summer afternoon in which she read it to him. 

He had it memorised cover to cover but he couldn’t bring himself to read it aloud, only her voice could gently relay one of the greatest love stories of all time. A story he had hoped they would rival. 

Maybe it was too big of fantasy to maintain hope but without hope, he was lost. 

He didn’t feel as though he owned the memory of the past August. Almost as though he was out of his own body, watching it happen. Watching things be so perfect and then watching them fall apart. It was a vicious cycle.

“your back beneath the sun,  
wishin’ I could write my name on it.”

The morning sun flooded the room as he rolled over to face her. The thin white curtains did little to keep the light out. He couldn’t figure out what time it was and he couldn’t be bothered to look at the small alarm clock beside him. 

Her back faced away from him, soft snores came from her mouth. He traced his finger all so gently along the lace of her nightdress to the base of her neck, along the straps and soft cotton material. The sun illuminated her skin, an angelic halo encircling her. 

Not even Michelangelo could paint something so heavenly. 

Each time he looked at her he felt winded. He was not one to dwell on luck, he focused rather on what was guaranteed and soundproof, but he knew he was so lucky to call her ‘his’. To be able to hold her, to watch each sunrise and sunset with her, was everything to him. 

It was at this moment he decided on their future - the girl before him was the woman he knew he was going to marry. Someday, he promised himself. 

“I can practically feel you burning holes into my back, Spence.’ Her laugh cracked with sleep as she turned to face him. 

They lay there for a few moments holding each other’s gaze, irises swimming with love. He grabbed her waist, a soft muffled hum as she rested her hand on his chest. 

“I can also hear you thinking. Penny for your thoughts?” Her voice was gentle. 

He hummed.

“I think you can hear my aching head rather than my thoughts, sweetheart.” 

“Aw, does poor Doctor Reid have a sore head?” She teased.

Lifting her head with his index finger, he said, “Now, what did I say about calling me Doctor Reid.” 

“Ah, yes. How could I possibly forget! At least one of us can remember last night with some degree of clarity.” 

He laughed, “I just have a hangover, I remember everything. Not like you on some of your girl’s nights with Garcia.” 

Pulling her pillow from underneath her, she hit him with it. 

“You promised you wouldn’t speak of that!” She groaned. 

“And you promised you wouldn’t call me unless…” He trailed off. 

He wished he could stay there forever as their laughter mixed together. 

…

There are moments after laughing, those deep belly laughs, where silence fell upon them both and she would look at him with that mischievous look in her eye and he would fall over and over again. It was pure, unadulterated joy as they caught their breath. 

These are the moments he wishes more than anything that he could live once more. 

The empty passenger seat reminds him of the silence of their apartments as they grew further apart. It reminds him when she would sit there and stare out the window without as much of a glance towards him. It also reminds him of the drive home from their august trip. She was glowing, happily chewing on a piece of candy or eating the Cheetos they’d specifically bought for JJ and claiming she would buy more packs when they got back. (She never did.)

Time seemed to slow as each stop light turned red. The drive extended by a few extra minutes. More time to psych himself out. To tell himself to turn around. To remind himself that she wasn’t his to lose.

She was her own person, it was the reason he loved her so. She couldn’t be owned by anyone. In another way, neither could he. Maybe it’s why they clicked together like missing pieces of a puzzle. It’s a possibility why they fell apart so quickly, those pieces must have gotten lost somewhere along the way. 

He no longer felt the anxiousness of before, determination surged through his veins. Each red light he stopped at reminded him of each mistake, each time he missed the cracks and signs. This time, he promises himself, he would be better.

He took the next right, knowing that she was 10 minutes away. 

He was 10 minutes away from either making the best or worst decision of his life. 

600 seconds away from his heart’s home.

799.

798…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! i am so sorry this chapter has taken so long. after i got my exam results, i had a lot of stress getting them reassessed which thankfully they went up to 2A*s and an A (not bragging but i swear i have told all of about 4 (four) people so i feel as though i can trust you guys lol) i've had a bit of a bad patch mentally too at the minute so writer's block is out at full force.
> 
> i hope u guys enjoy this once, it nearly killed me off lmaooo


	9. this is me trying

“i’ve been having a hard time adjusting  
i had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting.”

SPENCER

He knew that the first case back would be difficult, to say the least. However, he hadn’t accounted for it being this hard. 

He felt as though his brain is completely scrambled - so many theories flying around his head are blocked by the memory of the nights prior and he doesn’t know what to do.

He sat at the roundtable listening to Garcia rant off the details of the case - four young women murdered, all within one month of each other in Baltimore, and each worked in high-paid, male-dominated fields. He knew that it was likely to be a male who was envious of their achievements, a husband scorned by his wife being paid more than him, or a man who believed women did not belong in the workplace. He didn’t say anything, kept his eyes on his file. He was too afraid that if he spoke the tears would fall again. 

He was too afraid to look up and see her. 

They usually sat beside each other on the plane but this time she tucked herself in beside Emily, he noticed how tense her shoulders were, how she never held anyone’s gaze, how she hadn’t looked at him at all. He knew that it was his fault but he refused to let himself dwell on that guilt. Instead, he turned the wheels in his brain towards the case. He forced out any memory of the prior nights and replaced them with the pictures and words in the case file in front of him. 

By the time they'd landed he followed Rossi into the SUV and ignored the concerned looks of the man he came to know as a kind-of father figure as they walked into the local PD. Geographic profiling was the only thing he cared about, everything else faded away.

As he stared at the map before him, nothing seemed to fit. Each crime scene in a different area, no clear comfort zone for the UNSUB, and no clear answer for him. He was frustrated. He felt like he was rusted, like the gears in his brain that ran smoothly were jammed, unmoving, and broken.

He felt utterly useless and helpless. 

His mistakes with the geographic profile were proof of that. He had hardly listened to anything that was going on with the case, trying instead to figure it out himself. But when he found himself standing in front of them all, he noticed his mistakes. 

The first words she had spoken to him in days were pointing out his mistakes. The irony of the situation made him want to cry. So, he did what she did all those days ago. He left, letting the door swing past him, he ignored the soft call from JJ, and the confused looks from Emily. As soon as he felt the cool air of the small bathroom, he let the tears he had been keeping in fall for the first time. 

“and maybe I don’t quite know what to say,  
but I’m here in your doorway  
i just wanted you to know that this is me trying.”

“Spencer.” 

It was Derek. 

“Kid, I know you’re in there. I-“ his voice broke, “I just want to help you.” 

He slid the lock out of the bathroom door and wiped his face before he opened it. He was met with the most concerned look on Derek’s face, mixed with confusion and sadness. 

“What happened, kid?” 

“We… we broke up.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t much he could say. 

“I messed up, I know I did. I just don’t know how to fix it.” 

There was a beat of stillness between them, Derek let out a soft sigh. 

“Look at me kid.”

He looks up from his scuffed converse. 

“I don’t know what happened between you both, I cannot tell you how to fix each individual problem. What I can tell you is that you love each other.”

“So I should let her go, is that what you’re saying?”

“God no, kid,” he recoiled at his absurd assumption, “I’m trying to tell you that you both love each other, you think she hung the stars in the sky. Sometimes people just get lost and need time away from each other to find each other again.”

He continued, “Love is a tricky thing. It’s full of compromises and disagreements, but you have to be able to push through that. I know how much you fear losing her, but so does she. Fight for her.” 

“I-i… I don’t know how to. She’s the only person I know inside and out and I can’t figure out how to get her to stay.”

Derek pauses, unsure about his next few words.

“Are you sure you’re not the one running away, Spencer?”

Now it was his turn to be stunned by the absurdity of the question. 

“Derek,” his voice was stern, “just tell me how to fix this”

Derek’s eyes soften once again at his desperation.

“There’s nothing that cannot be fixed if you just tell her how you feel, kid” With that, he turned and left him in the bathroom, alone. 

His eyes found his own reflection, he examined the deep circles under his eyes, lined with red leading to his tear-stained cheeks. Splashing cold water on his face, he adjusted his tie and jacket. With one deep breath, he walked back out into the precinct. 

No one was in the conference room, Hotch had left a note to say there was another victim. Then he noticed it. 

The coffee cup sat beside his files, a small smiley face on it. It was from her. For the first time in days, he smiled. 

Y/N

“they told me all my cases were mental,  
so I got wasted like all my potential  
and my words shoot to kill when I’m mad.”

She was rarely angry, her temper was typically calm and collected. She’d been scorned and hurt enough in the past, by friends and ex-partners, that if you hold onto anger it will only increase the pain you inflict on yourself. 

The first case back with Spencer, she decided, was the exception to the rule she made herself.

She came into work as early as she could with the knowledge that Hotch would be in his office, grinding away at the endless mountains of paperwork that lay on each of their desks. She was brief when she told him that her relationship with Spencer ceased to exist. They were finished. 

Hotch didn’t even try to hide his disbelief. If she was honest with herself, she could not believe she was uttering out loud that they were over. 

The weekend, however, had given her time. Time to think about what had happened. She was conflicted; she wanted to hear him out but she also thought she would be able to predict what he would say. She couldn’t. She had no idea why he could not deal with her anymore, with their relationship. She wracked her brain to try and figure what was plaguing him. 

She came up empty each time.

Despite her earnest wishes to fix things, he didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t even speak. He just sat there completely mute. That pissed her off.

She told herself she didn’t know why but, in reality, she did. She wanted him to say anything, didn’t even need to be an apology, all she wanted to hear was him rant off some facts about women in the workplace or the percentage of women who earn more than their husbands. But he didn’t. 

It angered her that he just bottled up - that he wouldn’t even just carry on, do his damn job. But this was Spencer and she thought she knew him. The first case back, she thought, proved to her that she didn’t know him at all. 

So she was snippy. Snide remarks here and there, pointing out that he had missed some locations on the geographic profile, getting coffee for everyone but him. 

She regrets her sharp tongue at times but in some twisted way, her sharp words gave her power over him she didn’t have a few nights prior. The power to hurt him as much as he hurt her. She let the worst get ahead of her, she failed to notice the dejected looks on his face when she passed him by without a word. She tried her best to not profile him, to not profile the cracks in his voice when he spoke or the way the bags around his eyes were darker than usual. 

“So, this is the UNSUBs comfort zone, so far we have four victims killed a month apart so there is no sign of escalation other than the violence of the crime.” 

The map was wrong. He had messed each victim up and, like before, it pissed her off. 

“Your profile is wrong.”

Those were the first words she spoke directly to him. The whole room went silent, waiting for whatever it was bubbling under the surface to erupt. She regretted them as soon as she said them.

“Pardon?” His voice was small, so quiet you wouldn’t have heard it at first. 

“Victim four was found where you’ve placed victim two, therefore making your profile wrong. The locations are significant for the UNSUB, they form a pattern.” She pauses. “If you actually engaged with any of us you would know that.”

She knew it was cruel but she was angry. She was hurt. She had loaded her gun and fired. 

Hotch’s stern voice cut through the silence.

“Y/L/N. A word.” 

She knew she’d fucked up. She just didn’t know how to fix it. 

“it’s hard to be anywhere these days when all i want is you.  
you’re a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town.  
…i just wanted you to know that this is me trying.” 

After that case, Hotch had lectured her about how unprofessional she was. She didn’t need to be told though, she already knew. It had been a few cases since and even though working alongside Spencer had gotten easier, to some degree, being apart from him had gotten even harder. 

Going home to an empty apartment to simply play out their shared memories in her mind was like a slow death, thousands of cuts and scars covering her. She could hardly concentrate on anything on the TV without wondering whether Spencer would enjoy it, or catching some old movie they’d watched together. 

If she knew one thing about herself is that she found it easier to make people hate her rather than accept their love, it was easier to push people away than to make them understand. So, she twisted in every knife in her back before they were even there in the first place. 

She was disappointed in herself. She wasn’t a quitter - she should’ve fought for him but she knew she didn’t have the answers she kept searching for. She still couldn’t quite explain why everything had fallen apart. 

The cycle of questions and no answers made her angry. It made her even angrier that he didn’t seem to fight for her either - he’d shown no signs of wanting to talk, even just small talk on the weather. She couldn’t begin to describe how much she missed listening to him talk about anything, especially his ramblings and, for lack of a better term, his knowledge dumps. 

She just wanted to feel like herself again, there were too many nights that she got lost in him for her to know herself. Now that she was alone, she was trapped, strapped into a seat of a movie theatre, forced to watch their relationship build, grow, and crumble over and over again. 

She questioned why she made him and left him the coffee that day. She tried to tell herself it was her way of saying that she was sorry for being so cruel. If she was being honest, she wanted him to know she was trying. Trying her best to fix what she had broken. 

Each day she stepped into the office, he was there and she felt like running. That urge dwindled as the days passed, but it’s a reminder to herself that she’s trying.

Trying to be a better person for herself. For him. For everyone else. 

As Hotch told her, “you can only fix this when you have fixed yourself. Until then, you try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh so it's finally here - this one was a challenge but i love it so much! sinebenigniate is my name, angst is my game! hope you guys love it x


	10. illicit affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a glimpse into the early stages of spencer and reader's relationship.

“take the road less travelled by,  
tell yourself you can always stop.  
what started in beautiful rooms,  
ends with meetings in parking lots.”

It had been one whole month since they’d first kissed. The working weeks had gone by slowly -the first few cases had been local, they had all night to spend wrapped up in each other. The smell of her perfume filtered through his apartment, almost as if it always belonged there. Her pillows smelled of his cologne. They belonged to one another. At last. 

They hadn’t intended on telling the team, not until they’d actually considered the whole ‘what-are-we?” conversation. However, she was certain that Spencer was forever. He always had been. 

From nights spent in both their apartments and small dates outside of town were all they ever needed. Less of a chance to run into anyone from work, he would assure her as they drove an into D.C. Soon enough, small restaurants around D.C became their safe haven when they got the chance. She knew Spencer preferred home-cooked meals though, but she never said anything when he would stop her before they left work to let her know he’d pick her up soon.

The cases away were harder - no chances to sneak from one hotel room into another, nor were there chances to grab dinner between the two of them. She was frustrated. This case in Tampa wouldn’t let up and all she wanted was to be around him. 

That’s how she ended up in the parking lot of the Tampa P.D, her back pressed up against their SUVs, waiting for her coffee. He turned the corner and her whole body lit up, pulling the coffee cup out of his hands. 

“Woah, someone’s eager then!” He laughed. 

“Shut up. I’m tired - you have no idea what rooming with JJ is like,” giving him a dirty look, she continued, “Anyways, why did you call me out here?”

It was so quiet she almost missed it. 

“Pardon?” She took a sip of her coffee.”

“I just missed you is all.” 

Cupid pulled his arrow and fired, straight into her heart. 

“Spencer…”

“It’s stupid I know but I-“

She goes to protest but he stops her.

“You know we could just ask Hotch if we could pair together on the next case?”

“Spencer, you know we can’t.” Her eyes are soft, not with pity but sadness. She just wants to hold him.

“Would it be so bad if they knew?”

She paused. 

“So you think it would be a bad idea then?”

“No, god no. I just don’t want anything to change.”

He gives her a perplexed look.

“It’s just… the paperwork, the stress, long nights, HR, and the rest of the team. I just don’t want them to treat us any differently.”

He slips his arm around her shoulder and meets her gaze.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less travelled by and that has made all the difference.”

She laughs, “Why are you quoting Robert Frost to me in a parking lot?” 

“Because… this is not something that we can compromise on.” 

There’s weight in his words. 

“We either decide whether or not this, us, is worth fighting for. Sure, telling the team may be the road that few have decided upon but would you simply give up on us just because?”

She reaches for his cheek, brushing her fingers over his blush-stained cheeks. 

“Okay. The road less travelled is our road then.”

He smiled and nothing in her life could ever compete to the beating of her heart and the happiness that followed them as they walked hand in hand. 

He was forever. 

“and that’s the thing about illicit affairs,  
and clandestine meetings and longing stares.  
it’s born from just one glance,  
but it dies and it dies,”

It was cold when she started working at the Bureau, she could never forget it. She had wrapped herself up in her royal blue knitted scarf her grandmother gave her when she turned 16 - a small, juvenile good luck charm she kept close to her.

It also protected her from her new colleagues having to see her shiver from the cold. 

Pulling it tighter around her neck as she walked into the conference room, she saw him. He was sat around the roundtable, sat beside Morgan and JJ. He didn’t look up when she walked into the room but as soon as Hotch announced the newest recruit his head shot up. 

His eyes met hers and her entire world shifted. Something inside her changed when she looked at him. 

Her first thoughts were that he was beautiful, criminally so.

Then he started to talk and she could feel herself falling deeper and deeper into wonderland. 

She was sat at her desk when he first directly introduced himself.   
“Hi, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” She looked up at the soft voice. 

“Ah, umm, Garcia told me you were the resident genius. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” She gave him a genuine smile, the first one she had given in a while.

“Well, I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute. However, I don’t believe intelligence can be accurately measured.” 

She giggled at his deflection. 

“Don’t deflect - you’re a genius. It’s cool.” She shot her hand out to shake his. 

Watching him carefully, he hesitated and she knew.

“Germaphobe. I get it.”

His eyes brightened at her statement.

“How did you-“

“You hesitated. Most people would return the gesture. I understand though, handshakes pass twice as many germs as giving someone a high five. I only do it to be polite.” She explained

“Kissing is safer.” He blurted out. 

She laughed, “What are you insinuating Spencer?” 

“N-nothing!” He stumbled over his words. “It’s just scientifically proven that kissing does not pass as many-“

“Don’t worry about it! I was only joking.”

A moment of silence as he lets his eyes trail up and down her body, almost as if he was assessing her. 

“Oh. Well, in that case, I wanted to tell you that you can bring your own mug for coffee or tea and to not take mine. They’re labelled, see?” He holds out his Star Trek adorned mug.

Her heart swelled thinking about his labelled coffee cups - ‘who is this man?’ she thought. 

“Well, the more you know! Thank you, Spencer.” He turns to leave. “Although,” he turns back, meeting her eyes once more, “I have to say, I do prefer Star Wars myself.”

Derek passes as she says it, muttering a small “Here we go again…” before Spencer launches into the scientific inaccuracy of Star Wars. 

As he spoke so passionately, she knew from that moment she had found her kindred spirit. She wanted to know how he took his coffee, his favourite meals, where he goes when he wants a moment alone, what his favourite constellation is, where he grew up, what his family was like. She wanted to know everything. Everything and more. 

She could feel the school-girl crush rise within her but this time it was different. It wasn’t juvenile nor naive, no writing his name in red hearts at the side of her work planner. It was pure and sweet, the sound of his voice was a symphony she had never heard before and one she didn’t want to stop hearing. 

For the first time, she felt it. That yearning to be close to someone, to hold them, to know them. For the first time, she wasn’t scared of it. 

Weeks went by and she started to write down all the little facts he would drop, sometimes half facts if the team stopped him. She wanted to remember them all, even though she knew one day she would forget. The same with his notes, she kept them stored in a memory box she had been keeping since she was little. 

Full of little mementos of her life as a child, seashell necklaces and keychains from her trips to her grandparents at Christmas, to her life as a teen, the band of her prom corsage and photo-booth pictures of her and friends from her past. It hadn’t been touched since she had graduated but something told her to store them away, keep them for a rainy day, for when she needed to smile. 

One day her crush on Spencer was small, minuscule, telling herself not to hope for it to be returned and the next she felt herself falling.

She was in the middle before she knew she had even begun. 

“look at this godforsaken mess that you made me,  
you showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else.” 

She felt like a fool, an idiot, to even believe he would come back. 

Flicking through the notes he had written her, she knew she had burnt too many bridges. She smiled at the memories of her first days in the Bureau. She wonders about that scarf. Last place she remembers seeing it was in the back of her closet. She’d practically replaced it with the Doctor Who scarf Spencer had knitted and given her. 

Looking down on the rest of the box, forgotten memories of her life pass her by like flickering candles in a dark room. The memories exist in her consciousness but they are not vivid. They are not as painful or as bright as the memories she shared with Spencer. 

Her life shifted when she met him, she became Dorthy walking out of Kanas and into Oz when she was with him. The world was in bright technicolour. The world was her canvas and he was her paint, colours she had never seen before. 

He was her muse. He was the blues and the purple-pink sunrises and sunsets. He was soft jazz playing on a late, misty Sunday afternoon when the sun is still in the sky but it’s low down, getting ready to melt into a dark night. 

There was an unspoken element to their relationship, their own language; how he would drape his jacket over her on the rare chance she slept on the jet, how they would squeeze each other’s hands under the desk when a case hits home, or when he would squeeze her thigh when they drove back to either of their respective homes. It was the brush of his hand on the small of her back when the cooked together. It was the soft, longing looks that caught and knew long before she could ever call him, hers. 

Her only regret was how the life they were building together, ended. She can’t remember when the language they shared was forgotten but she wishes she could go back and change it. Everything else, however, she wouldn’t change for the world. 

Her second glass of wine sat on the cabinet beside her. Untouched and completely still. She had drunk about half the glass. More than she would care to admit to anyone.

Alcohol was supposed to make her brave, fearless. Now, it only makes her feel numb. Something to ease the pain of watching him almost every day. She knows better to not make a habit of it. So she stops.

There were very few cars that passed by her apartment late at night. The hum of an engine pulling to a stop was familiar to her. Although, she knew it was probably just the young guy who lived in 2C. He was almost always coming home late but she wasn’t at her apartment long enough to know the patterns of her neighbours - duty always called. 

She let Joni Mitchell’s sweet voice wash over her and took a sip of her wine.   
‘Maybe I should look for that scarf.’ She thought.

Getting up for the first time in an hour or so, her legs creaked as she walked with the bottle of Rose and her glass in search of that scarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh so here it is! i am so proud of this chapter and i hope you all love it x


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